


That Same Madness

by Frumion_III



Category: Romeo And Juliet - Shakespeare, SHAKESPEARE William - Works
Genre: Dark, Hell, M/M, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-29 03:00:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15720624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frumion_III/pseuds/Frumion_III
Summary: Mercutio knows that there is a madness in him. Queen Mab is with him always when there is silence, and war drums beat loudly at him from the corners of his mind. His friends haven't seen the decent into darkness, but there is one who has.The good Prince of cats and he have always paired off in a deadly dance, and they will continue to dance, even in death, their glorious bloody dance of colours.





	That Same Madness

Mercutio hadn't always been like this, once upon a time he had been peaceful. He had jested in earnest, laughed for the sake of real joy, but no more. His friends never noticed, his acts of clown and jester fooling them all, none of them noticed the dark glint in his eyes. He wasn't alive, not really, he breathed, laughed and brawled as he always had, but his humour took on a biting edge, his fights ended more bloody and his eyes’ bright spark was lost. 

It hadn't started like this, once he could brawl without a care, now the most he could hope for was the dark satisfaction of a victory. He was sick, the world faded in his deep black eyes to tones of sepia and grey, but no one looked close enough to see. For all they called him mad, denounced his talk of fairies and imps, no one had seen him fall and no one saw the madness running through his veins. So he sought out fights, trying to paint colour back into his world with blood, his enemy’s, his own, it never mattered. And then came Tybalt, his red bursts of colour more bright than any other. He looked into Mercutio’s eyes and saw his own madness reflected there, saw the call to war, the echoing crescendo of the drums that drove his own endless fights. 

They fought, exchanged verbal blows as well as those of the blade, fought again, and listened as the drums faded, only for a moment or two, their madness basking in the split lips and bruised knuckles. How could they ever stop this dance, the only colour in so monotonous a world as this? Their call to war stated, glorying in the recognition of another compelled by the same force, they parted ways, only to be brought together again, in a whirlwind of blades, silver flashing and painting the world a hundred shades of red. They fed off one another, colours bursting from any point of contact and creating a sheen of psychedelic iridescence all around them, their madness equal, synchronised and powerful. 

Mercutio would never kill Tybalt, for then the madness would overcome him, no fiery Capulet to bring the colours back would mean no life to lead. He knew too, that Tybalt would never allow himself to kill those bursts of colour that he caused. They painted colour back into each other's lives, each using the other as a canvas with sharpest silver blades for brushes, but to kill was never the intention. So when Mercutio felt the bite of a sharpened blade cut deep into his side he knew without a doubt that he wouldn't make the trip to hell alone. He put his final breaths into a curse, and watched as the dull monochromatic sand beneath him bloomed bright with colour. The scarlets and crimsons were so beautiful, at least he thought so. He knew Tybalt would too, for in that they were the same, and his last look at those eyes that shared his madness was filled with understanding. 

Mercutio felt cold, so cold, his body lying there and bleeding raw colours into the ground below as he watched from beyond the mist. He felt a tug at his presence, but, just as he had always done with authority, he ignored it as best he could. Suddenly he saw the living world clearly once more. Someone dared invoke his name. “Mercutio’s spirit lingers just a little way above our heads. Either thou or I or both must go with him!” screamed Romeo, tears streaming down his face as he fought Tybalt. Mercutio looked on as the fight progressed, saw the look in Tybalt’s eyes. He had chosen, he would lose, and then, as their spirits rose and curled, intertwining and completing each other, Mercurio realised, their madness was gone. They had only to be together and it was gone, the two vengeful spirits put to rest, becoming one again. How could he not have waited for his other half, the other side of his blood drenched coin. 

And on they walked, heads up in wonder at the dripping scarlet walls of hell. They had never really belonged up there in the world of the living, and now, at last, they were home.


End file.
